


White Hermes

by solequeene



Category: Glee
Genre: Barebacking, Future Fic, Light Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-01
Updated: 2011-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:09:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solequeene/pseuds/solequeene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt teaches Puck a lesson about proper fashion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Hermes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://kirke-novak.livejournal.com/profile) **[kirke_novak](http://kirke-novak.livejournal.com/)'** s [prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/puckurt/401627.html?thread=4580059#t4580059). I'm sorry for the delay, life has been a bitch. Unbetaed and written in a Christology class.Lord Stanford doesn't exist, or at least Google doesn't think so. If there's a Lord Stanford, I apologise for using his name. It's completely fictional. Also Peresford doesn't exist outside the realm of _The Omen_ universe.

The Royal Ballet Gala was one of Kurt's favourite nights. It was glamorous and sophisticated and it was also the perfect business opportunity. He had made quite an impression with his take of Alexander McQueen's shops in the city and, at the tender age of twenty-six, Kurt Hummel was the new hot thing in the world of architecture and décor. Which was the reason he has chosen an impeccable Armani tuxedo and a snow white Hermes scarf to add a little something to the outfit. 

And he had succeeded in making quite an impression. Surrounded by adoring women, respectful colleagues and lecherous old men. Kurt had shone all night long. Alone, unfortunately, as his six years boyfriend, Noah Puckerman, had insisted on staying home because he was allegedly 'too tired, baby', which made no sense in Kurt's mind, who doubted that teaching Musical Theory in a high school was that exhausting. The truth was that Noah didn't enjoy these little soirees, something that had caused some fights in the past but Kurt had learnt to leave his boyfriend alone. Making him jealous with stories about how absolutely delightful the young Lord Stanford had been and how he had insisted Kurt must spend a weekend on his Summer house was just a little extra. A delicious extra, but an extra nonetheless.

Kurt left at the perfect time: not too early to be a buzz killer and not to late as to look he was enjoying himself too much. He truly wanted to get home and sleep in his comfortable (but utterly fabulous) bed snuggled against Noah's muscular chest.

Kurt arrived to the beautiful Georgian house he shared with Noah on Knightsbridge street and smiled when he heard the buzz of the television coming from the drawing room in the first floor, knowing that Noah had waited for him. Kurt strutted to the dark blue room where his boyfriend was sitting on the stark white couch, feet popped on top of the delicate Art Noveau coffee table, a can of beer on one of his hands and a bag of chips in the other. He was wearing a pair of over-sized and faded jeans and a worn out cotton t-shirt, looking as different from Kurt as Dolce & Gabanna and Wal-Mart.

“Well, well, you're finally home. And looking all fancy, at that”. Noah's voice was humorous as he scooted to the left and invited his boyfriend to sit by his side. Kurt smiled again and took his place on the couch, sitting primly and watching half-amused half-horrified the boxing match on the screen. 

“Well, dear, some of us appreciate not looking like a homeless person who couldn't find the Salvation Army's office”.

Puck laughed airily and turned his face to kiss the other's plump lips, delighted by their usual banter. Kurt had found his way to Noah's lap when his phone rang.

“Don't answer it, babe”.

“I have to, Noah. It may be important”. He slid off the taller man's legs and greeted the call with a breathy 'Hello, Kurt Hummel speaking' that struck Noah as impossibly sexy. Appreciation was replaced by annoyance when a playful smile grazed Kurt's lips.

“Oh, Lord Stanford! What a pleasure, hearing from you so soon. Ah! Oh, well, William, I apologise- Tell me, William, how can I be of any help?”

Puck grumbled as he thought exactly how Stanford wanted Kurt to help him: he had spent too many nights watching the other man flirt with his partner, heard them laugh at some pompous joke he didn't get. Puck wasn't a jealous man but images of Kurt on his back, naked and needy as Stanford fuck him into the mattress assaulted him mercilessly. He truly loathed that man. He was pulled aways from his self inflicted torture when he heard Kurt's light laugh follow by a breathy 'I will be delighted to see you tomorrow at the studio. Rest assured that I will do my best to meet your expectations. Peresford is such an amazing project to take. I will not disappoint you'. Puck was completely sure that the damn house didn't need to add a single vase to its collection and that Stanford was ready to re-decor his house only to snatch Kurt away.

“Tomorrow, then. Good bye, William and have a wonderful evening”. Kurt ended the call and placed the phone on the table before leaning back with a blissful expression on his face.

“Did you hear, Noah?”, he sounded painfully happy, “Peresford! It's the biggest project I've ever had. Can you imagine it?”. And hell, yes, Noah could imagine it, Kurt riding the house owner amidst a sea of blueprints and fabric samples.

“You know he doesn't give shit about you buying him new furniture. The guy just wants to fuck you! And you flirt with him. You go to those fancy parties dressed up like that”, Puck gestured over Kurt's tux, “and flaunt your ass so he can drool all over it. it's not fair, man. I know I'm not classy and I don't own a fucking mansion, but it's so unfair!!”. Noah crossed his arms and pouted. Pouted. It was the most adorable ting Kurt had ever seen and he was on quarter annoyed and three quarters turned on by the level of jealousy and insecurity displayed in front of him. Maybe the night wouldn't even watching TV.

“Well, Noah, yo do have a point. I have a lot in common with William. Fashion sense, for example. I bet he'd never wait for me dressed like this!”, he smiled devilishly, “What do you say, darling? Maybe we can do something about this loo?”, he straddled his boyfriend again, “Maybe we can upgrade this I-don't-give-a-shit style? Grunge is so '95”. Kurt kissed him and ground his ass against the rapidly hardening erection beneath him. “What so you say, honey? Will you put yourself in my hands?”.

“Fuck, yes!”

Kurt laughed and stood up, guiding the other man up the stairs to their bedroom, painted in ice-grey and pale mauve, lighting soft and inviting. Kurt pushed Puck to the bed before crawling on top of him and holding his hands above his head.

“Now, Noah, I'm going to teach you all that's wrong with this... outfit”.

He unwrapped his white scarf and used it to tie his boyfriend's hands firmly to the headboard. Puck let out an undignified whimper and watched trough hooded eyes as Kurt slithered down his body before leaving the bed to take off his shoes and jacket, neatly folding them and leaving them on the ottoman.

“These socks, for example, are awful. They must go” he said, before pulling the offensive off. Noah chuckled: Kurt had a strict 'No socks in bed and never during sex' rule. Kurt kissed him fiercely, biting his lower lip and caressing his chest, taking his time to tease the nipples.

“Now, the t-shirt. The cotton is so thing and the threads are so lose that I could rip it open. Do you want that, baby?”. Puck thrust his hips upwards. “Is that a 'yes'?”

“Yes!”

“OK, then”. Kurt grabbed the flimsy fabric and pulled, pulled with all his strength, tearing the t-shirt and exposing the rippling muscles under it.

“Such a beautiful body”, Kurt whispered before dedicating all his attention to kiss, lick and nip every inch of of flesh, tracing circles with his tongue over the abs, eliciting moans and whimpers. He crawled down, sat on Puck's shins and slid his hands over the inseam of his lover's jeans, avoiding Noah's twitching bulge.

“These jeans... oh, these jeans are just tragic. So scruffy and unkempt. We can't have you in them, can we? No, no, no. I don't think so”. He stripped his boyfriend of the denim piece with a speed and grace he hadn't show since the heated sex meetings in his old Navigator, back in high-school, when none of them had the guts to admit they had something more than fucking.

Noah's member sprung to sight between them, thick and red, throbbing and demanding attention. Kurt moved forward and enveloped the shaft completely, bumping his nose against Puck's pelvis, holding his hips in place. He bowed his head up and down, fast, sucking as hard as he could and a few minutes later he could feel a slight tremor cursing trough the deliciously hot cock. He pulled away and squeezed the base, effectively cutting the orgasm that was about to explode.

“KUUUURT”

“You can't come, yet, OK?”

“Y-yes”

“Good boy”

Kurt unbuttoned his shirt slowly, caressing himself, letting Puck take in the soft, flawless skin, the subtle but strong muscles, the trail of dark blond hair that led to his crotch. Pale hands worked in the belt and zipper before tugging down the short, tight boxers (that Puck was sure were boy-shorts), freeing his dick from its silky cage. Kurt stroke himself lightly, putting on a show for the very aroused and desperate man stretched under him. Nimble fingers fondled his sack, pleasure shooting trough him.

“Oh, God, baby, let me fuck. I need to!”.

“Nuh-uh, Noah. You're here to learn. So, be a good little student and stay quiet”.

Kurt crawled off Puck's legs and (after discarding his trousers) reached for the night table, returning with a small bottle of lubricant. Noah smiled predatorily and shifted his body, waiting to be untied. Kurt noticed it and gently slapped his boyfriend's cock. He spread his lover's legs, laying on his back between them so Noah could watch two lube-coated fingers push inside Kurt's tight and twitching hole and . Puck was sure he was about to die from need and sheer heat as Kurt kept jerking off and fucking himself on his fingers, hips trashing wildly.

“Kurt, untie me know or I'll break the fucking headboard”

Kurt stopped and sat back, looking trough lush eyelash with a mix of lust and amusement. “That's a Mies van der Rohe. You do that and you'll have the bluest balls since the Smurfs”.

“Oh, God, then do something!!”

“Your wish is my command”. Kurt leaned forward to lick Noah's cock again ad pushed one of the fingers that had been inside him into Puck's entrance. He swept his tongue up and down the shaft as he worked the hole open, adding more fingers until he had three of them down to the third knuckle, making room for his member. Noah was begging, body trembling. Kurt grinned and dip his tongue in the slit one last time before guiding his lubed member against Noah's ass, easing himself inside with slow, gentle movements, feeling the flesh pulse around him, making his erection swell even more. He stood still, tracing circles on Noah's lower stomach, waiting for his permission, with came in the form of a shaky nod.

Kurt pulled out and in again, keeping his thrusts shallow, caressing Puck's inner thighs. The pace grew faster and harder, almost painful, before Kurt pulled out completely and flipped Noah over making the scarf twist and dig a little on his wrists, guiding the former jock to stay in all fours, his head bowed down between his arms, exposed and helpless. Kurt thrust in again, gripping the tanned hips so hard that his knuckles whitened, hitting the prostate each time, grunting, drowning himself in Puck's desperate moans and whimpers, his hitched breath, the spasms of pleasure making him clench around his cock.

It was amazing.

It was perfect.

It was too much.

Puck came with a deafening 'Kurt' and had to used all his willpower to keep himself on his knees and elbows as his boyfriend plunged again and again until he came with something that was almost a growl. Puck felt the cock inside him throb, warm liquid filling him in. Kurt thrust in a few more times and then hold very still, his breathing heavy. He pulled away (Noah relished in the wet squelching noise) and, without notice, lowered his head to the sore hole and licked it, cleaning some of the semen dripping from it. Noah would have come again if he had one more drop of jizz in his body.

Kurt untied him, caressing his wrists with delicate fingers, his movements dainty and graceful as if he hadn't just fuck Noah's brains out. He snuggled against the muscular chest, sighing happily and ready to sleep.

“Kurt?”

“Uh?”

“That was incredible. We need to do it more often”

“Sure”

“Babe?”

“Uh?”

“Tomorrow we're getting a tux, OK?”

Snort. “You want to go and piss all over me the next gala, so you can keep Lord Stanford away from my sexy ass?”

“Nah, I'm going to marry you”


End file.
